Smolder
by appleseedquest
Summary: The War has ended. But for some people, the fight will go on. Hermione Granger is hurled back through time to 1977, her memories gone. By the time she remembers her future, will it be too late to stop herself becoming immersed in the past? SB/HG.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

_ It was 1998, September 2__nd__._

_ Hermione Granger sat in front of Professor – now Headmistress – McGonagall, with fingers anxiously twisting around the handle of __her wand, her face thinner and sadder than it had been a year previously; her shoulders hunching forwards as if she was bracing herself against the world, against life, people, memories; a barrier of bone and flesh, her own human shield._ _She felt lost, out__ of place; Hogwarts was no place to be, not when she was drowning in the past, not now -_

"Miss Granger, I'm glad to see that you've decided to return for your eighth year," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "A few other students have also chosen to repeat their last year and gain their NEWT's, but I must admit there are not many." She examined Hermione more closely, who fixed her gaze on the floor.

"... Who?" Hermione finally spoke up, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her tongue felt clumsy and hard to manoeuvre around words, so she stuck with a short sentence.

"I know that Mr Longbottom and Miss Patel are both resuming all of their studies... Miss Chang, Mr Finnigan and Mr Thomas are only resuming a few of their NEWTs... and Mr Malfoy is solely completing his Potions NEWT whilst on-taking an apprenticeship in the same subject."

(Neville. Red and gold, one of the bravest people Hermione knew, a true gryffindor; Parvati, Harry's first date, dancing at the Yule Ball with snowflakes in her hair; her mirror image (_"Padma! PADMA!")_ falling to the ground without the chance to gasp or scream or say 'I love you,' and all it had taken was a green flash of light -

Draco. Green and silver and a streak of gold that his mother had put there, betrayal and murder and crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom because he didn't want to be like his father any more, walking away from that battle _that battle...)_

Hermione looked down again and screwed up her face because -

- she didn't want to _remember._

And "Oh," is all she said. McGonagall pursed her lips primly.

"Miss Granger, I understand that you are under a great deal of stress at the moment. We all are. I also know that the amount of work you have this year will surely be overwhelming after..." she paused, plunged on, "everything. I want to give you this." Hermione glanced upwards, her attention caught as McGonagall pulled out a dainty gold chain from a drawer; at the end of its length hung a tiny hourglass, winking in the sunlight.

"But – at the Ministry -" Hermione stammered, her lips parted and eyes wide as she stared at the Time Turner; "I thought they had all been destroyed!" She can remember clearly the cabinets full of shattered glass and twisted metal, the stupid nagging worry that had been foremost in her mind – _oh no, what if we get in trouble? - _as Death Eaters shot Killing Curses everywhere, and Ron was being strangled by a brain with tentacles. A small smile worked its' way onto her face, as she remembered how easily she used to fear rules and regulations.

McGonagall nodded again. "All except the one you used in your third year; the Headmaster kept it here, and now it's the last of its' kind. Knowing Albus, he guessed ahead that this might be the case..." Her mask seemed to slip briefly and a smile touched the corners of her mouth, before she looked back at Hermione and handed over the necklace. "Here. Take it!" She said insistently, as Hermione at first continued to stare at it. "You can use it to get to all your classes and have some spare time left for yourself."

Hermione's hands slipped from her wand and grasped the necklace delicately, and she was suddenly reminded of that third year; of Harry and Buckbeak – Witherwings, she smiled inwardly – of Sirius and Remus... and suddenly her lips set in a grim line, and she slipped the chain around her neck.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. A silence stretched – McGonagall broke it with a sigh.

"You may leave, Miss Granger."

With a nod, Hermione was up and out, descending down the small stone staircase outside the office; noticing that the Gargoyle guarding it still had a web of cracks across his forehead from a poorly aimed spell; down the corridor; through the entrance and finally _out the door -_

_ - _into sunshine. Hermione exhaled. She stood there and breathed for a minute, then two; feeling the sun heating her face and hands. She didn't want to roll up her sleeves because then she would see herself shaking, see her pale, sickly skin, see her scars - "_Mudblood! Filthy lying mudblood, filthy __lying mudblood!"_

So she walked. And tried not to think. But of course, that wasn't possible; not for a _insufferable little know-it-all._ Her eyes began to sting and her throat ached, and she couldn't take it any more: she had to rush down to the lake - where she no-one could see her - and cry, and cry, and cry. Being at Hogwarts was like torture. Everything reminded her of the War; every face and spell and crack in a wall; everything seemed stained with a ghostly sheen of blood. It was all _poisoned_

(How can things ever go back to the way they were when so much _bad _happened?)

Hermione wiped a sleeve over her face and heaved a deep, shuddering breath. _Pull yourself together, _she thought, and closed her eyes to try and calm herself down; _What would Harry __and Ron say? They're strong. Stronger than _you.

But she knew that they weren't. The two of them had each other – they were best friends. And Hermione was just the _girl. _The one that Ron loved, the one that didn't love him back. The one that he wouldn't speak to any more.

_ "He'll get over it," Harry said as Ron stormed out of the room when Hermione came to visit the Burrow; but he still hadn't, and now Harry couldn't talk to her either because Ron wouldn't talk to him if he did, and she had _nobody.

Nobody. It was so lonely in crowded rooms; so quiet when people spoke. All Hermione could think of was the people who didn't speak – who couldn't, any more.

_ "Scared, Freddie?"_

_ "Nah."_

_ "It's a boy! We named him Ted, after her father -"_

_ "You really are the cleverest witch of your age."_

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" A voice spoke aloud, distorted and deep then high then a whisper, and it took her a moment to realize it was real and that she's no longer lost in her thoughts; Hermione straightened up, the sudden sunlight blinding her when she opened her eyes again.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The voice spoke again, garbled and twisted, Hermione's body locking and falling away from the assailant, heart beating fit to burst and breathing shallow and quick -

"Obliviate."

There was a rush of sound, of voices; everything melted from Hermione's mind until she wasn't Hermione, she was slipping away _(who was?)_, her memories _(what memories?)_ and -

_ - what? -_

_ - who am I?_

**A/N: I rewrote this first chapter three times! First HP fic much?**

**I think the first two chapters of this are a little awkward, so don't judge me until the third chapter... that's when it gets fun and not as angsty! But still a little bit angsty, because we all love drama. Right? RIGHT! Anyways: enjoy, and I hope I didn't get anything wrong. Criticism and corrections are always welcome!**

**P.S. My keyboard runs on reviews. ;^)**

**- appleseedquest**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry to everyone who read this chapter before it was replaced; I changed it to third person again because… well, I just felt like it. It was probably stupid to change it anyways. This chapter sucks, but it gets good next chapter. That's when all the Marauders are introduced! :^D So I hope this is okay, and look forward to the next one!_

_- appleseedquest_

**Chapter Two**

"Wake up."

_First there was nothing. Then there were words._

"Hermione."

_First there were words. Then there was sound._

"Can you hear me?"

_And all the sounds were twisted together, like men and women and children all speaking in unison, a thousand vocal chords combined and saying -_

"Yes," and that's all she said, because she fell silent at the sound of _her_voice: the second voice she had ever heard, a girl's voice. Her brain pushed thoughts of other voices at her, echoes of words and spells, but it didn't matter because _she'__d_ never heard them – she was new, she was somebody else, and all that was left in her head was a skeleton of a woman _(did the voi__ce say Hermione? Am I Hermione?) _she had never met, and she was gone, somebody had taken her away -

"Good," the first voice said, and paused; and in this pause Hermione realized that she couldn't make her body move; and even confused and lost and drowning in this person that she was not, with no past and a head full of things that she couldn't recall learning; even then, Hermione knew that this was not a good thing. The voice continued whilst she struggled against invisible bonds. "Do you know what's happened? Where you are? _Who _you are?"

Hermione didn't answer, concentrating on the Body-Binding Curse. There was a weird kind of calmness inside her, like nothing could get worse than this; no memories, no movement, and a creepy voice talking at her, in the middle of some strange mound of grass – she was at the bottom of a hill, and the curve of the land meant that she couldn't see beyond it – it was as if she was stuck in the eye of a storm, looking down at this girl who was stuck in the worst kind of situation, and none of it had anything to do with her.

But then Hermione realized that she didn't even know what she looked like, she didn't know why she was even here, why this was even happening, and she strained to remember something, _anything..._

_you're a witch avada kedavra divination hogwarts you-know-who don't say his name astronomy pureblood halfblood mudblood slytherin ravenclaw unforgivable curses cheering charms amortentia quidditch bezoars hippogriffs sorting hat professor essence of dittany veritaserum polyjuice potion parchment boomslang skin ghosts azkaban werewolves_

_ … _words leapt out at her, the things she knew, the books she'd read, the spells she had cast – but people, faces, memories eluded her; Hermione didn't know who she was. Tears of frustration welled up in the corners of her eyes, and she wondered if she was the kind of the girl that cried easily, or if she bottled it up inside for days and months and years; then she wondered if she was still that girl at all; or if when her memories were taken, she became somebody else, the person Hermione was now, with no memories to define her or to shape her personality.

"I guess not," the voice went on to say, and there was a smile in its words. "But don't worry. That's all part of the plan."

"Plan?" she said, struggling harder, thinking _Hermione Hermione Hermione _so she didn't forget; did she forget her memories? Did someone make her forget her memories? Was it a spell? What spell could – _Hermione Hermione Hermione – _oh! Obli-

"Plan," it confirmed, "I had to Obliviate you. I had to." Then suddenly it sounded heartbroken and deep and choking, and it said, "Don't hate me. You'll know one day, Hermione, and maybe then you'll see what I did was -" It broke off, whispered to itself - "No, no, I can't say that... she can't know..."

"What're you talking about?" Hermione cried. "Please, let me go! I don't know why you're doing this, but I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You haven't. You have. I haven't. I have." The voice said quietly, almost to itself. "Hasn't everyone?" It sighed. "Hermione. This is all that you deserve. One day you'll be able to blame me; but maybe on that day, you won't want to. Goodbye."

Something was pulling at the back of her neck; a cord hit the front of her throat and Hermione realized that she was wearing a necklace. A hand fiddled with the chain from the front and it felt cold, smooth; and that's all she had time to register before a spell was muttered behind her. She couldn't hear the words because even as she realized that she could now move there was a rush of sound and heat and light.

Hermione leapt to her feet but there was no substance behind the voice; there was a lake, and a castle; and the sky was moving at a blur and suddenly there were shadows moving quickly all around her, moving faster and faster…

… and then it was too fast for the shadows, and instead there was nothing but the gradual shifting of the land and the flashing of night and day, and to Hermione the castle was all that was left of mankind. She glanced down at her chest, seeing black robes adorned with scarlet and gold, and an hourglass on the end of a shining chain, the glass whirling around at an impossible speed – her hands leapt away by themselves at the heat of the thing when she attempted to stop the spinning hourglass, but then the necklace was gone like it had never existed.

It was just her left standing by herself at the lake, shuddering and refusing to cry again, because she wanted to be strong, she wanted whoever she was to be strong enough to remember herself and strong enough to figure out what the hell she should do next. The closest source of help was the castle, and Hermione walked towards it warily, hoping that somebody would be -

But she came to a halt and stood there, mouth slightly open, as she stared at the castle. She knew this place. This... this was Hogwarts! This was where she... _this_ _must hav__e been where I went __to school. Why else would I be __here? I must still be at school._ Hermione thought, then gazed down at her robes once more, realizing she was right as she noticed a badge on her chest; a roaring lion, emblazoned in scarlet and gold, and beneath it was _'Gryffin__dor'._

Gryffindor. Where dwell...

"The brave at heart," Hermione whispered, and with renewed vigour she continued up the hill towards the castle. She knew she'd find answers there.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am SO sorry for the huge wall of text that this chapter was before I managed to upload it properly! I reuploaded it several times and it just kept deleting all the spaces for some reason, even when I double-spaced it. Then I didn't have internet for a couple of days so I couldn't even do anything about it D: so sorry everyone, and I hope this is okay!**

**Chapter Three**

Hermione picked her way across a long, crooked passageway that stood high above a ravine with a slight feeling of uneasiness. The stilts that supported it were wooden and looked extremely flimsy; as she walked, she could feel the structure shifting slightly with the direction of the wind. The view did nothing to lessen her fears - on Hermione's right there were hills for miles, and a fantastic rainbow of greens spread out across the country. A shimmering smear of water disappeared behind the castle, which, as she steadily drew closer to it, seemed to block out everything. In the late afternoon, the turrets and towers of the castle cast heavy shadows across itself, making it appear sinister even in the light of day.

Too busy staring at the towering building, she didn't see the woman walking briskly towards her until her sharp voice cut through Hermione's ears.

"And who would you be?" she said, her voice firm and edged with a strong Scottish accent. "Not a student of Hogwarts, certainly." Her hair was pinned back in a severe-looking bun, and she stood tall and stiffly. Hermione had a distinct feeling that she wasn't to be messed with. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came to mind; how could you explain this situation? She thought furiously. There was no easy way to say 'I've no idea who I am, where I'm from or where I am now, sorry. If you ask me, some-thing's definitely wrong here.'

But she said it anyway. Albeit a little more polite, although, Hermione thought privately, she couldn't care less about manners at this moment in time.

The woman's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline at hearing this. Her lips pursed, and Hermione had a sinking feeling that this wasn't a good sign. After a few moments she spoke.

"Come with me," and with that she turned on her heel and strode away down the walkway. Hermione followed as quickly as possible, but the woman – probably a teacher - moved surprisingly faster than she looked capable of. They entered the castle through a set of huge doors; immediately Hermione was struck by the size and magnificence of the Entrance Hall.

Before them lay a set of stone stairs that surely ten people could walk down at the same time abreast; four hourglasses stood in the room, two on either side of the door. One was filled with emeralds, and another with what seemed to be topaz; the woman swept past a sapphire-filled hourglass that seemed particularly full, and Hermione gazed, wide-eyed, at the last hourglass as ten small rubies levitated back up into the top of the glass. The teacher seemed to have seen what Hermione was looking at – she tutted, saying:

"Potter and Black, I presume," then continued on down a corridor. Hermione soon lost track of the winding passages and stairs. Within a few minutes they both stood in front of a stone gargoyle, and the woman was frowning hard as though trying to remember something.

"Liquorice wand," she announced, and Hermione only had a split second to ponder her insanity before the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a stone staircase. They climbed; at the top, a set of doors stood in front of them. However, before the teacher could knock, a voice spoke from within.

"Enter."

The doors were opened and Hermione found herself looking in on a most bizarre room; silver instruments whirred on tables and shelves; portraits hung all over the walls, and inside them the occupants muttered and nudged each other and, in one case, snored; in the centre of it all was a polished desk, behind which sat an equally bizarre-looking man. His hair and beard were long and silver, his eyes were blue and electrifying with their intensity, which seemed only magnified by the half-moon spectacles sitting on his crooked nose; he emanated power, yet his tall, thin body was folded serenely into a high-backed chair, and he sat twiddling his thumbs quite mildly.

"Dumbledore, this girl -"

"Is not supposed to be here," Dumbledore said pleasantly, and stopped twiddling his thumbs. "Where she is supposed to be, of course, is quite another matter."

"She says that she can't remember anything, thinks that her memories have been wiped," the woman paused and spoke in a lower tone, drawing slightly closer to the desk. "She just appeared out of nowhere... it seems dubious at best... you don't think she could be working for...?"

"Minerva, I doubt that he would be so obvious in his plans. Term has not even started yet, and this girl does not attend our school. Lord Voldemort does not make such mistakes."

"Wait!" Hermione said suddenly. "I know that name! He's... he's where I'm from!"

Dumbledore looked suddenly alert and more serious than before. He looked at Hermione over the top of his glasses, and his bright blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her.

"What can you remember about him?" he asked.

"He was... bad. People didn't say his name. He... I'm sorry, I can't remember anything else," Hermione said, feeling stupid. Dumbledore nodded, and there was a brief silence, broken by him speaking again.

"Minerva, you may leave. I know there are still preparations to be made for the Welcoming Feast tonight." The woman nodded, cast a foreboding look over at Hermione, and left the office. Dumbledore gestured towards a chair and Hermione took it gladly. "I believe that we haven't been introduced. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and I am Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Now," he said, "I am rather curious to learn how you acquired Hogwarts school robes, even though you are not a student of this school. In fact, I am rather curious about you in entirety. What is your name?"

"Hermione," she answered, and felt stupid again as she added; "I don't know my second name."

"I find that some answers are to be discovered right beneath our noses," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye, "Or perhaps in some cases, on the inside of our collars. Students are required to sew name-tags onto all of their clothing at Hogwarts." Hermione caught on quickly and grabbed at the neck-hem of her robes, peering at it for a tag. She found it on the left side of the collar; a small piece of white cloth sewed onto the black material, with a small but elegant script reading;

"Hermione Granger, Seventh Year," Hermione read. _A name, _she thought, _I know my name. _And even though it was hardly anything to have, she felt a small bubble of elation rise inside of her.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "There seems to be something afoot here. A mystery, perhaps. I do enjoy those... please explain all that you can remember thus far to me, Miss Granger."

"I woke up beside the lake outside, and someone was talking to me -"

"Was it a man or a woman?" Dumbledore said sharply.

"I – I don't know," said Hermione nervously, "Their voice was distorted by magic." He looked grave at this, and simply nodded for her to go on. "I couldn't move. I think I had been jinxed. They were talking about how they had had to Obliviate me; how it was all part of a plan... then they cast some kind of spell – I didn't hear it – on a necklace I was wearing. It was a little golden hourglass. It kept spinning, and I could see all these people moving around me... but they were all moving backwards, and really fast. Then I couldn't see them anymore, and the sun kept setting, then the moon rising, so fast that it was just a constant flash... and – I think – I think I went back in time!" she said this all in a rush, blushing because it all sounded so ludicrous. "It just suddenly stopped and the necklace was gone; and that was when I came up to the castle."

Dumbledore was quiet for a long time. Minutes went by as he stared at his thumbs on the desk; Hermione wondered if he was going to start twiddling them again. Eventually he spoke.

"Miss Granger, I think you are right; and, if you'll forgive me for saying so, there is very rarely any time where anything I think is not correct. It is an unfortunate thing on occasions like these, however, where I wish very much that I could be wrong. Someone has sent you back through time by, I am sure, manipulating the powers of a Time Turner."

"What's...?" Hermione trailed off, confused. The name rang a bell in her mind; it felt like something was at the surface of her mind, invisible but inexplicably _there..._

"Time Turners were invented years ago, and since then they have been carefully regulated by the Ministry of Magic - in case of incidents like these, I fear," Dumbledore said, sighing heavily. "People do often take advantage of their assets... Time Turners give the user the ability to go back through time; each turning of the hourglass represents an hour. They are not supposed to be used past a few hours at a time – indeed, there is supposed to be a spell on the Time Turner that prevents people from doing so... but it seems that someone has found a way past it."

"Can... can they go forward in time?" Hermione asked. Her throat ached as tears threatened to spill over the edge of the threshold; she was sure that she knew the answer already.

"No," Dumbledore said, and she heard a note of sadness in his voice. "And even if it could, we would not know which time to send you to. But," he paused, musing, "I may be able to create a spell that will allow you to go back, Miss Granger. First, you must regain your memories."

"How am I supposed to do that?" she asked, a faint spark of hope in her now. Dumbledore examined her closely for a moment; his eyes seemed to be x-raying her, and it felt like he wasn't looking _at _her, but _into _her...

"The memory charm that has been placed on you is not strong," he said finally. "But it is not weak, either. Memory Charms can be broken forcefully through continual attacking of the mind – but that is painful, and damages the mind. The other way they can be broken is slower."

"How?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Time."

"I'm sorry?" said Hermione, confused.

"Memory Charms are like physical attacks. They leave deep wounds inside a person's mind, which will then turn to scarring; completely obliterating their memories. Depending on the strength of the Charm, some people will never recover any of their memories; others are left with permanently damaged minds; but it is possible, within a happy and safe environment, for the mind to heal itself. It takes time, but it can be done."

"How long will it take?" Hermione asked desperately.

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate. "That, I do not know," he said, and Hermione got the impression that he was not being entirely truthful.

"Where will I go?" she whispered, then continued, her voice slowly rising. "I don't know any happy places; I don't know where – no, _when_ I am... I don't belong here!"

"It is 1977, September 1st," said Dumbledore. "All the marigolds have stopped blooming now; it is a shame for you to have missed it."

Hermione stared.

"1977..." she muttered, coming back to herself, "No... I just... I don't belong here."

"I will have to correct you there, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, beaming at her, "As Hogwarts has a place for anyone with a drop of magic within them – and as you have it, you're just in time for the beginning of the term! I suppose that things must go in your favour occasionally, yes?"

Hermione stared at him again, a little longer than before.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Miss Granger, I do not think I have ever had the misfortune to have a bad idea. Although a moment does spring to mind where I might have put a certain idea through more consideration..."

"What was it?" she asked curiously.

"A few years ago, I thought the time was ripe for a new hat. After perusing many wizarding shops, I could not find any to my taste. I decided to search some Muggle stores, and found one I found to be most fetching indeed. I wore it to the next meeting of the Wizengamot – Alas! It was in actuality a tea cosy." Dumbledore smiled down at Hermione. She blinked. "Of course, I did not wear it to the Wizengamot again. But everywhere else was fine."

"Er – right," said Hermione, resisting the urge to laugh. She wasn't quite sure about Dumbledore. He seemed half-insane, but Hermione thought that maybe he was just trying to cheer her up.

"But," Dumbledore said, suddenly looking serious, "I must ask you to be careful in what you do here, Miss Granger. Any action you take could have serious implications on the future, however far away it is – therefore I must insist that you do not become too absorbed in your life at Hogwarts. You could become friends with your mother, your great-uncle... imagine the repercussions if they see your face in the future and recognize you? Or, as unlikely as it seems, think of whether your presence could affect a student's future life decisions; and whether those decisions could affect the world that you come from. By the time you remembered who you were, Miss Granger," he said gravely, "You may no longer exist."

Hermione sat and looked at him, her eyes wide. How was she supposed to be happy if she had _that _preying constantly on her mind?

"Those aren't exactly healing thoughts!" she said angrily. But suddenly Dumbledore smiled again.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. I am fairly sure that you will be safe to live normally here. Now, may I ask if you have your wand?" Hermione's jaw dropped for a moment – _my wand! _She hadn't even stopped to think about it, with everything that had happened – did she even have one? "I usually put my wand in my pocket," Dumbledore suggested mildly.

Hermione rummaged around the robes, slipping her hands into any pockets she found; eventually a wand, along with a slip of paper, was unearthed from a hip pocket. The wand was dark and smooth with runes engraved into the handle, and the wood was carved such that wreaths of ivy seemed to twist around it; somehow it felt both coldly foreign and warmly familiar in her hand at the same time.

The piece of paper was primly folded, and Hermione almost tore it open in her haste – there was that flowing script again, almost cramped in trying to fit everything onto the small scrap of parchment – but her heart sank. It was only a timetable of some sorts – Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions...

"All my classes are on here," she said, the excitement returning. "Charms, Herbology, Arithmancy..." She felt her smile disappear. "And Ancient Runes?" The non-smile turned into a frown. Hermione supposed she must have been clever, or at least a hard worker – but she didn't appreciate having to pick all of this up again, considering the situation.

"You may drop a few classes if you wish," Dumbledore offered pleasantly.

Somehow Hermione didn't think that – what could she call it – the _real _Hermione would appreciate that. She felt confused and scared all over again. It was like there was something inside her begging not to be remembered; something wanted her to stay here forever, and never go back to the way she was before...

_"You really are the cleverest witch of your age," and there was screaming and laughter and spells hitting off walls and people and a green flash of light, and then the man fell through the veil and an aching pain split her head apart and -_

And then the feeling was gone, and Dumbledore was smiling at her again as if nothing had happened.

"I – yes, I'll," she looked at the slip again hesitantly, glanced back up at Dumbledore, "Just Arithmancy." she said, handing the piece of parchment to him. Dumbledore gave her that strange x-raying look again, as if he had a very good idea of what had happened, but she looked down at the floor. Her head hurt.

"I'll arrange you into the timetable and have the required books and other materials including clothes sent up to your dorm – which will be Gryffindor, it seems," he said, nodding at the crimson and gold badge on the front of her robes. "If any students ask, you are to say you have transferred from Blackstone Valley, a school of magic in Canada." Hermione nodded. "You grew up with your father, who was killed by a misfired curse, and you have moved over Britain to stay with your great-aunt. Make sure you don't talk at great length about your family. It is all too easy to forget lies you have told before, and if you make a mistake you will be discovered."

Hermione nodded once more, and with a sudden shock realized that late afternoon had turned to evening; Dumbledore looked older in the darkness, and Hermione was reminded of the castle as she had seen it that afternoon; a shadow was cast over his face, highlighting wrinkles and creases; yet his electric-blue eyes seemed to leap out of the night, piercing into her own...

"Shall we make haste to the Great Hall?" he suggested lightly. "I am afraid that time has rather gone on without us – the students will be arriving at any moment now."

"Yes, Professor," she said, and the word felt familiar on her lips; she had that feeling of something being just beyond her grasp again, before Dumbledore stood and she followed him from the office.

**A/N: This was originally 5,500 words, but I've split it now. From now on chapters will all be about 3,000 words. :) Please feel free to leave constructive criticism! I personally was doubtful over whether I portrayed Dumbledore correctly... but I did my best! Next chapter: Hermione meets the Marauders! ;^D**

**- appleseedquest**


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